


Do You Want to Know a Secret?

by Sherlaufeyson



Category: British Actor RPF, British Comedy RPF, I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again (Radio), The Goodies RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlaufeyson/pseuds/Sherlaufeyson
Summary: Two Goodies wrestle with a secret to shareMust come to a decision; the best they can bearThings won’t be the same when they’ve said what’s to sayAnd it’s all up to Tim – ooh, what a giveaway!Graeme can’t stand keeping the secret. Bill can’t bear the consequences of telling the truth. Tim has no idea what’s going on.Set around 1975





	Do You Want to Know a Secret?

Tim rushed down the corridor of BBC Television Centre, three coffees in hand. Apparently all the scripts were written, they just needed to marry the two halves of each, written by Bill and Graeme. He was there to supervise as a sort of mediator. He’d been assured that all the work had been done, but they did have a deadline, and he knew how easy it was for them all to get side-tracked with one thing or another.

Something made him slow down as he reached the door to their office. He heard raised voices and decided to pause a while and wait for a less heated moment to enter.

A few moments later, he overheard his name being mentioned. He moved closer to the door. He hadn’t been eavesdropping. He knew they wouldn’t have started working yet, they needed him to join them as a set of ears, virginal to the jokes and sketches they’d outline. An unbiased voice of reason to help veto or encourage ideas. He was very flattered that they respected his opinion so much. Well, he had been very flattered – up until he’d arrived at just the wrong moment to hear them talking about him in raised voices. 

He wasn’t sure why, but his initial emotion was hurt. Why were they talking about him when he wasn’t present? He couldn’t hear them well enough to be able to tell categorically that they were mocking him, but he’d heard what he thought seemed to be a few words indicative of something along those lines. Were they finally going to kick him out of the group? He knew he didn’t really have the writing chops they had, but he thought he did provide _something_ of value to the trio. 

He pressed his ear closer to the door and heard Graeme’s unmistakeable voice. “We have to tell him.”

Bill’s voice answered him, mildly hysterical. “We can’t!”

“He has a right to know.”

“What? No, he doesn’t! This is absolutely futile.”

“I couldn’t agree more. This argument is pointless.”

Tim could hear the exasperation in Bill’s voice. “Don’t be difficult. You know exactly what I mean. It’s not like one iota of good can come of this.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that. In any case, it’s different now.”

“How so?”

“I didn’t know you felt the same way.”

“What? I’ve hardly been coy about it. We’ve had this conversation – “

“I know, I just thought you were…”

“Thought I were what?” Bill’s voice was challenging, and getting more agitated with every exchange.

“You know – being sympathetic?” 

“What? How do you mean?”

“Trying to see things from my point of view.”

“Well of course I wasn’t! I have always been looking at it from _our_ point of view. What’s best for one of us, is best for all of us. You know that.” Bill sounded long suffering, but there was a note of apology in his voice. 

“Oh you’re such a team player, William.” Graeme was putting on a camp voice, which filtered through the door and Tim winced. A deflecting Graeme was the sort of Graeme most likely to get Bill’s back up.

“I do know something about team work. I’ll have you know I was Captain of the first XV.”

“I’ll bet you were, ducky.”

“Oh, don’t be cute, and don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry, cherub.” Tim winced as he could imagine the withering look Bill would have sent Graeme’s way. And yet, some of the tension seemed to have drained from the room.

“I’m serious, Gray. We can’t tell him. If we do, this is the end. It’s all going to change. We won’t be able to work together like this again.” Tim had never heard Bill sounding so serious. Not even when he was pitching his terrapin themed jokes back in the I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again days.

Tim felt his heart in his mouth. His world was shifting off its axis, and all he could do was listen to it. It took all he had not to spill the coffees shaking in his hand onto the carpet.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this is going to destroy both of us.”

“How so? I was thinking it could work out okay for at least one of us. In any case, he deserves the truth.”

Even though Tim felt perhaps that he had slightly more of an inkling as to where the conversation was going, he felt himself glued to his spot against the door. He was utterly incapable of knocking on the door, let alone getting up off the ground and letting himself into the room. 

“Well, I think you’re bonkers if you think that’s possible, but I guess there is one possible outcome that won’t result in one or more of our immediate catastrophic meltdowns.”

“And which possible outcome is that?”

“The one where we tell him how we feel, he laughs it off as a joke, and we both go back to our sad, frustrated little lives, where we write out our fantasies and get to enact them in half hour segments half a dozen times a year.”

“What makes you so sure he’ll reject us?”

“Are you kidding me? Have you looked at us before?” Bill’s voice was incredulous.

“Yes… well, I think we’ve both got qualities.”

Bill’s sarcastic cackle sliced through the gaps in the door.

“I’m serious, we’ve all grown into decent, intelligent, attractive men… “

“What do you mean, 'grown'?” Bill interjected. “He’s _always_ been attractive.” 

“I know that. We all know that. But _he_ doesn’t know that.”

“How can he not know that? It’s basically all he talks about.”

“Now come on! That’s not fair.”

“Well, it’s true! I mean just the other day he was saying how he was fair, and blue eyed, and …”

“…Yes?”

“Well, fair and blue eyed. Doesn’t that tell you enough?”

“As a matter of fact, it doesn’t. I mean, you and I might find fair and blue eyed, and slender with a hint of muscle and floppy blond hair…”

“Get on with it.”

Graeme coughed. “Yes. Well, we might find that incredibly, soul-scorchingly, distractingly attractive.”

“Especially in script read throughs.” Bill added.

“Yes.”

“Where we write him all those homosexual innuendos.”

“Yes.”

“And he says them and we watch intently as his lips quirk up in that knowing smile, and he gets that tell-tale flush rushing to his cheeks as he knows _exactly_ what he’s saying.”

“Yes, yes. All that. But while we might find that incredibly attractive, I don’t think he sees it the same way.”

“What, how is that possible? He’s practically the brightest person I know.”

Graeme let out a soft, faux-indignant cough, which Bill chose to ignore.

“And he’s the funniest, one of the most talented writers…”

Graeme coughed faux-indignantly again, and Bill addressed him, “Yes, including you, Doctor Garden. He’s brilliant. You’re – y’know…”

"Careful, Mister Oddie.” Graeme warned.

“You’re…. cutting. With your humour. A bit mean, but Tim is…” At this, Bill’s voice drifted off dreamily. “Gentle, funny, kind.”

Graeme hummed in agreement. “He is.”

“And you think he doesn’t know it?”

“Not exactly. I think he knows he’s funny, and talented, and kind. But I don’t think he knows how much it… affects us.”

“How much it what?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Bill signed resignedly. “But what can we do? We can’t both have him. And that’s supposing he’s at all interested in either one of us in the least!”

“We have to tell him.” Graeme reiterated.

“Can’t we wait one more year?” Bill pleaded.

“You said that last year.”

“And you agreed to it the year before.” Bill rebutted.

Christ, Tim thought. How long had this been going on?

He held his ear closer to the door, hearing a faint chorus of “…and the year before that” carrying on for what seemed like an eternity.

It faded out and he heard Graeme’s contemplative voice, “…to think I thought it was just so we would all stay together. I had no idea you were in love with him, too.”

“So that’s it, then?” Bill sounded resigned.

“I guess so.” Even though Graeme had clearly won their debate, he didn’t sound thrilled with his victory.

“Well, it’s been nice working with you.”

“May the best man win.”

Well, this had been going on quite long enough, Tim thought. He knocked at the door and felt the tension ratchet up in the room on the other side.

“Yes?” The timid voice of Graeme came through.

“Coffee delivery for you, sirs.” He called, depressing the door handle with his hip and backing the door open into the room.

When he turned to face them, he saw Graeme and Bill sitting on the desk looking at him like he was a judge either about to reprieve them from or pass onto them a death sentence.

“Um, so I couldn’t help hearing…” Tim began.

He saw Bill’s eyes darting to the window as if gauging whether leaping out of a second storey window would be a less painful fate than the one facing him.

Graeme’s knuckles where white, gripping the tops of his thighs in a failed attempt to look nonchalant.

Tim tried to find his voice as quickly as possible to avoid the imminent cardiac arrest and defenestration of his two best friends.

“…a little of what you were saying.” Tim continued. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad? Why would we be mad? We –“ Tim held his hand up to still the frantic back-pedalling he could sense about to come from Graeme.

“Firstly, I’m very flattered.” That much was absolutely true. After the hurt, and terror, and confusion had come the realisation that he was _wanted_ by them. It went further than flattery, but he felt flattery was the safest option to go with for the moment.

“I can’t pretend I’m not a little confused as to why me, but um… is it hot in here?” Tim felt perspiration on his brow, and the dual sets of eyes singularly focussed on him was putting him under the kind of scrutiny he hadn’t felt since facing the education committee after they’d just given him his grant for Cambridge. That moment of panic when they’d asked for extra curricular activities and he’d found himself blurting out the word “Footlights” as some errant cog in his brain had turned, remembering a conversation with his brother.

To think that if he hadn’t had that conversation then, he might not be here now, having this conversation… what a blissful existence that would be.

He loosened his tie and moved to the side of the room, depositing the now positively room temperature coffees. He felt both sets of eyes tracking him warily as he moved about.

He took a few paces closer to them, and saw them both lean ever-so-slightly back, in an utterly futile attempt to move away from him, while backed up against a very old, very heavy desk.

Tim took a second to look at them, really look at them. His best friends. Nearly forty years of combined friendship between them. Yet here they were, unable to communicate. Petrified and tongue tied.

He moved with purpose towards Bill and Graeme, walking right up between them and wrapping an arm tightly around each of their outer shoulders. He felt arms wrapping around his back and their collective sigh of relief.

“Fuck, I love you two.” He said vehemently.

He felt Bill sniffle into his shoulder. “Love you too.”

Graeme was shaking next to him and just hummed deeply in agreement, not wishing to risk his voice having the opportunity to select at which octave his vocalised response might pitch itself.

They stayed that way for minutes. Bill nuzzling into his neck, and Graeme’s shaking slowly subsiding in favour of a comforting hand carding through his hair. For Tim’s part, he was holding both of them close, thankful for the reprieve and his turn of brilliance in opting not to attempt putting his feelings into words in such a confusing moment.

A few minutes later, they gently pulled back to eye one another.

“So…” Graeme ventured.

“So…” Bill echoed.

“So… you don’t want to break up?” Tim asked hesitantly.

“No.” Bill said emphatically.

“Definitely not.”

“And you’re both… sort of… in love with me?”

“Yes.” Bill asserted again.

“I’d say that’s an accurate assessment of the situation, yes.”

“And I’m clearly in love with both of you, and have been for about, oh, thirteen years.” Tim spoke as if to himself.

“What?!” both Graeme and Bill shouted in unison.

“Come on! All those years of eye-contact, the innuendo, the touching. You didn’t think I was doing it for the camera, did you? For God’s sake, most of this stuff is on radio!”

The floodgates were open. Bill and Graeme launched into their explanations simultaneously.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you in the Footlights. I’ve been talking Bill’s ear off about it for years - ”

“I didn’t want to tell you. You are perfect and I didn’t think you’d possibly want either of us in a million years -”

“I wanted to tell you, but Bill asked me not to for the sake of keeping us all together, which of course is more important, but – “

“I thought you’d leave us heartbroken. I thought you would find it impossible to work with two people who are in love with you, unless you were a complete psychopath, which I know you aren’t -”

“Then I found out that Bill wanted you too, and I knew we _had_ to tell you. It wasn’t fair for him to suffer as well. It was going to be so obvious, and it was only fair that you’d know why –“

“I just wanted everything to continue the way it’s been. A lifetime with you, and a little heartbreak is better than no time at all. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you –“ Bill’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and Tim couldn’t help himself from taking his face in his hands and kissing him tenderly on the lips.

Tim felt Graeme come up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing him gently on the side of his neck. He angled his neck to give Graeme more access and felt a shiver as he grazed his face along his neck. “You’ve been the one constant in both our lives.”

Tim felt Bill’s head move gently up and down in tacit agreement. 

“I couldn’t keep silent, knowing we were both hurting, and that all that would achieve would be to hurt you at some point in the future.”

Bill broke the kiss and wrapped his arms tightly around Tim, who was being fully enveloped in a hug on all sides. 

“You were right to tell him. Thanks Gray.”

Tim moved his head to allow his two best friends to talk over his shoulder. He found a nice bare spot on Bill’s neck to cover in little nibbles and kisses. He figured Bill wouldn’t mind the negligible force used to stretch his worn t-shirt a few inches further away from his neck.

Tim felt Graeme’s body behind him shudder and the unmistakeable sound of moisture, suction and skin against skin and realised they must be kissing. He grinned against Bill’s neck and gave him a shallow, sharp bite.

Graeme and Bill yelped in unison and Tim giggled, giddy with relief that at least for now, everything seemed to have resolved itself.

Well, almost everything.

He turned himself in their embrace to face Graeme, and immediately felt Bill tugging at his collar, making quick work of increasing the surface area of neck and shoulder he was exposing.

Graeme’s glasses had unsurprisingly fogged up, and Tim gently removed them. He couldn’t resist raising his hand, caressing Graeme’s cheek, and moving his hand across to drag his lower lip down with his thumb. How often had he fantasised about kissing Graeme? He never once thought it could happen in real life. Not unless the incredibly remote possibility that a kissing scene between them was scripted by one or other of his hapless comedy partners-cum-boyfriends eventuated.

With nothing to hold him back, Tim surged forward, capturing Graeme’s lips in a kiss. Bill’s mouth had attached itself to his neck and he felt completely engulfed. Every nerve was alight with sensation.

Kissing Graeme was everything he’d hoped it could be, and nothing like what he thought it would be. Where he was expecting soft, yielding resistance, there was hard pressure. Where he was expecting chaste, controlled movement, there was deep, reckless passion. If he’d had a shred of conscious thought left to him, he’d have understood why Graeme had shuddered earlier when he’d been doing his best to suck a nice purple bruise onto the delicious bit of Bill’s neck where the muscle met his shoulder. 

He had thirteen years of this to catch up with.

But before that, someone had to be the grown up. They had a deadline to meet after all.

“So, do you children want to let me go and get the coffee so we can get to work?”

Their response was to hold him tighter.

“I think we can find a much more effective stimulant than coffee, don’t you William?”

“I most certainly do, Doctor Garden.”


End file.
